


Thrice

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Infidelity, Major character death - Freeform, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23775913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him…
Relationships: Regulus Black/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 79
Collections: Charms: 2020 Round Two





	Thrice

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [TheSlytherinCabal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSlytherinCabal/pseuds/TheSlytherinCabal) in the [DBQ2020Round2](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DBQ2020Round2) collection. 



> The theme for this round of the competition was Charms and my chosen pairing was Regulus Black / Lily Evans-Potter.
> 
> Thank you to Pronunciation_Hermy_One for her alpha/beta time <3

Life crashed down around him with the appearance of his house elf in terrified fits on his bedroom floor. Kreacher moaned and thrashed as Regulus spent hours calming the elf long enough to tell him what the Dark Lord had done. Kreacher described the lengths to which his master was intent to go in order to achieve his ends.

And there was no place for Regulus at his side.

Everything he’d given up for the cause—including the only person he’d ever loved—roiled like acid in his stomach until he vomited his feelings into the nearest bin, and made a silent resolution to put a stop to the most powerful wizard in history.

* * *

Regulus marched away from the dingy path of Knockturn Alley, stepped into the bright sunlight shining over Diagon Alley and nearly collided with a woman bending down in front of two young boys.

He stopped, breath catching. Lily Evans, former Head Girl of Gryffindor, stood with her wand out and a cheery smile on her face as she addressed the boys. Red hair framed her face and she sported an old Gryffindor scarf around her neck.

“ _ Geminio  _ ,” she said, tapping her wand against a balloon one of the boys was holding. “There—now you each have one. There’ll be no more fighting in the alley, and be nice to your mum today.”

The boys ran off, each holding firm to their balloons.

“What was that spell you just used?” It came out more of a demand than a query, and he sighed at the reproachful glare she sent him in response.

“Hardly think it’s any of your concern. Aren’t you using darker magic these days?” Lily blew past him, checking his shoulder with hers. 

Regulus jolted after her and gripped her around the elbow. “Lily—”

She rounded on him, a furious scowl on her face and her wand poking against his sternum. “Don’t you ‘Lily’ me, Regulus Black. I know what you’ve become! How  _ could  _ you?”

His left forearm itched at the reminder.

Dragging Lily as she planted her heels in the cobblestone path, Regulus yanked her into the shadows of Knockturn where no one would see them. “I did what I had to do—what I always told you I had to do.” The words burst forth, whispered desperately in the scant space between their faces. “Nothing’s changed. You couldn’t—you  _ didn’t  _ —change me.”

“Clearly.” Lily crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. “What’d you want?”

“That charm you used to duplicate the balloon.” Regulus gestured vaguely toward Diagon Alley and then lowered his voice. “Can you show me how to cast it?”

She arched a thin brow. “Why would I?” He started to argue, but she cut him off with a venomous snarl. “I’m not an idiot and I won’t fall for your lies again.”

His heart slammed and his mouth went dry. “That’s not…I wasn’t going to—I didn’t have a choice.” Merlin, he wanted to shake her until she understood. He wasn’t like Sirius; he didn’t have the luxury of spitting in his parents’ faces and surviving. “It was the Mark or it was death. What would you have me do?”

Her voice was cold, precise. “Die, Regulus. Die rather than betray—”

‘ _ Me’  _ hung in the air between them. Something inside of him broke, cracked down the middle and flooded him with such sadness he thought he might drown in it. “I’m not a bloody Gryffindor,” he croaked, barely able to look her in the eyes.

Lily flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Yes, you’ve made that perfectly clear.”

It wasn’t supposed to be this way; he was never supposed to hurt her again. That was why he’d broken it off and cut all communication with her. “Will you help me?” He sighed, defeated. “It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you—please.”

* * *

Inside The White Wyvern looked every bit a seedy underbelly pub as one would expect in Knockturn Alley. The best thing about a pub of its caliber, however, meant very few prying eyes to witness the proud son of the ancient Black lineage and a muggleborn witch putting their heads together to dethrone the Dark Lord.

In a shadowy corner, a decanter of firewhisky sat on the knotted wooden table in front of them. Regulus steadied his nerves with a deep pull from his glass. Once the burn slid from the back of his tongue to his belly, he stole a deep breath and turned to the impatient witch at his side. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand.

“You should let me send a patronus to Sirius,” she said, imploring him with wide, green eyes. “He needs something good. He  _ needs  _ this.”

_ Bugger it  _ , Regulus thought, reaching for another shot. “What I’m doing could get the rest of my family murdered. It has to be a secret—it  _ has to  _ , until the Dark Lord is gone.”

Her face paled and the planes of her throat constricted around a tight swallow as her chin bobbed in agreement. 

“Good.” The task was grave enough, he didn’t want to worry about dragging his brother down with him, too. “If I do this, he can be beaten,” Regulus whispered, fist clenching around the wand he withdrew from his cloak.

She placed her hand on his arm and turned towards him. “There’s a future for you if you help destroy him. You know that, don’t you?”

“There’s not.” Regulus pushed his messy fringe away from his eyes as he met her stare. He’d forgotten how easy it was to lose himself in her—but it was never her eyes that fascinated him the most. It was the sheer power of her, a muggleborn witch, outwitting him at every turn. He huffed out a single humorless chuckle. “I could never give you the things Potter could. I’d have gotten you killed, and then I’d never have been able to live with myself.”

Lily frowned; her pity made his stomach roll. “You could have, you know. If you’d made different choices.”

He gave a noncommittal nod, burying any hope that began to spark. It would do him no good to live in the land of fantasy; he had a mission, a purpose, and maybe at the end of it all, he’d be redeemed in the eyes of those that mattered the most. “Let’s get started, Evans.”

“Potter, actually.” Lily smiled sheepishly and pulled out her wand. “Last autumn, with everything going on we didn’t want to wait.”

“Right.” More whisky; he needed more whisky for this. “This replication charm—show me.”

“It’s simple.” She tapped her wand against the tumbler of whisky he’d been staring at longingly, and spoke clearly. “ _ Geminio  _ .”

The glass duplicated, whisky and all. Regulus reached out and ran his finger around its rim. “I thought food couldn’t be—?”

“Gamp is clear that if the food source is present and one isn’t attempting to summon it out of thin air, it can be conjured.” Lily gestured around the pub. “There’s a lot of whisky here.” She looked far too pleased, the corners of her mouth twitching and her eyes sparkling. “The charm cannot duplicate other magic, according to those same laws.”

Regulus sat straighter and his eyes dropped to the tumbler. If magic itself couldn’t be duplicated, then the spare locket would be empty. The Dark Lord would know his horcrux was destroyed. Swallowing hard, he turned his eyes back to Lily and forced a tight smile.

“Right then. Let’s go through it again.”

* * *

She was a vision of beauty with long, red hair hanging messily over her shoulders and big, green eyes gazing down at him with heavy lids. Her mouth fell open in a pleasurable  _ O  _ . He moved his fingers up, placing them inside its warmth, and gently withdrew before thrusting them back in. She made that noise he liked, the breathy one that sounded as if it were wrenched from her lungs. He couldn’t help but jerk his hips underneath her and clench as she ground down hard and fast against him.

When they laid beside one another, sweaty and spent, Lily turned to him with a serious draw to her brow and heavy unease in her voice. “This was a mistake.”

Regulus masked his disappointment beneath a shadow of indifference. Sitting up, he began to dress and slowly fastened each button of his shirt, trying to ignore her movements behind him. He’d loved her for so long and now… well, things were different, dangerous.

“It will never happen again,” she whispered, and left him with only the crack of Disapparation to keep him company..

Regulus remained in that seedy little room, with the singular bed and no window, for several minutes. His eyes rested where the duplicate locket lay hidden within his cloak. He was going to die, but if Regulus could weaken the Dark Lord then perhaps he would meet his match in the brilliant Lily Evans.

* * *

Regulus gazed down at her. His fingers were wrapped up in her thick hair while he guided her mouth over him in quick strokes. Every time her tongue swiped against the sensitive skin between his shaft and its head, he grunted and tugged her back. He didn’t want to get off quickly—he wanted her all night, in any position he could imagine and even some he couldn’t. His head fell back against the wall and he closed his eyes, silently naming off his favorite Quidditch players to keep himself from coming down her throat.

When he couldn’t take her teasing any longer, Regulus encouraged her gently by tugging on her hair, and watched her slight, naked form rise from the floor. She wore a wicked smile, and he wondered what he’d done to deserve her attention after everything he’d put her through. He’d take what she saw fit to give him, though, if it meant he could have her just a while longer before the inevitable end.

She left him slower than she had the first time they’d made love, and that small spark of hope gave him the strength to carry on.

* * *

The nib of an ornate, golden feather scratched furiously against ink-splotched parchment being held under Regulus’ shaking hand. He’d scrawled his note multiple times, and each time he settled further into the notion that in a few days, he’d be dead. No one dared defy the Dark Lord and lived to tell the tale. But, he couldn’t stand back and allow this—this abomination to continue.

Regulus held the parchment close to his dark grey eyes and squinted as he read the lines. His lips moved quickly as he whispered the words under his breath and finally, after hours of painstaking agony over the note, he set it aside and copied it on fresh parchment in his best script.

_ To the Dark Lord - I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. - R.A.B. _

He knew his actions went against everything he was raised to believe and embody, but the constant war he felt within himself finally broke the day he found out the Dark Lord’s true plan. Immortality and subjugation of even the loyalest, purest families. Of all things, he had his house elf, Kreacher, to thank for opening his eyes.

As if the old codger knew Regulus had been thinking of him, Kreacher appeared suddenly at his side and bowed so low that his hooked nose swept the hardwood floors. “Master Regulus, sir.”

Regulus sighed and pushed himself from his desk. He waved his wand over the drying ink and then held his free hand out to the elf. Exhaustion burrowed into his every word. “I need a favor, Kreacher.”

He bowed deep again. “Kreacher lives to serve the most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.”

“We will go to the cave tonight,” Regulus explained. “After I say goodbye, I’ll need you to remove her memories of me.”

Kreacher’s eyes grew larger, their green shine dulled for just a moment. “Kreacher must interact with the mudblood? Vile and filthy and—”

“Enough!” Regulus’ tone brokered no argument from the subservient elf. At Kreacher’s widened gaze, Regulus softened and patted him on the shoulder. “You will not tell a single soul about what you do tonight, is that understood?”

“Yes, Master.” Kreacher’s floppy ears bobbed as he nodded. “Kreacher understands, sir.”

“I don’t like to command you.” He brought his hand to the mark upon his skin, staring at his own enslavement and feeling wretched for what he must ask of his elf. “This will be the last time, I swear it.”

Pinpricks trailed along his spine and seductive whispers echoed in his ear. Suppressing a shudder, he stuffed the note into a hidden pocket of his robes and made his way to see  _ her  _ one last time.

* * *

“This is the last time. It’s ov—” Her legs snapped closed over his head, but it didn’t stop him from keeping her spread open with his tongue slipping over her flesh. “We—we can’t—it’s too— _ oh god!  _ ”

He chuckled against her, the vibrations causing her hips to jerk and her shouts to echo around the dingy room. He let her ride out the waves of her orgasm on his face and as her movements slowed, he shimmied up her body and thrust himself inside her. It took him less than two minutes of erratic, hard fucking to finish him off. His body collapsed over hers and he smattered her throat with kisses while they caught their breath.

“I love you so fucking much,” Regulus panted against her neck, trailing his fingers over her silky skin aimlessly. He just wanted to feel her, wanted to imprint the scorching heat of her body into his mind. “Lily, I—”

Her hand claps over his lips and she forces him to look into those deep, green eyes. “We can’t. We never should have—”

Groaning into her hand, Regulus squeezed his eyes shut and then tugged her hand away from his mouth and placed it over his heart. “Give me this, just one last moment with you, so that I can pretend it’s okay.” His eyes sprung open, misty and tormented. “I’m sorry for everything,” he said, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’ll make it right, I swear it.”

Lily blinked once, twice, and then untangled herself from his hold. She dressed quickly and flicked her red hair over her shoulder; the picture of practiced ease. “You can’t make it right. This—” she gestured between them, “is over. I’m done.”

“Right.” A breath loosened from his chest and his shoulders fell. He knew it was coming, knew it was necessary. But he was prepared for none of it. “Kreacher,” fell from his lips so quietly, the only confirmation he’d spoken the elf’s name was the sudden pop of Apparition in the unplottable room.

* * *

Lumos cast an eerie glow across the dark waters of the cave as Regulus and Kreacher stood at the edge of the island at its center. Something lurked beneath the surface; every few seconds he’d catch a shadow of movement or a ripple that carried on far past the light from his wand. Dark magic lingered here and nestled in the marrow of his bones.

“When the basin is empty, switch the locket.” Regulus made quick work of opening the duplicate locket and inserting his note to the Dark Lord, and then handed the locket to his house elf. “When you switch the locket, get out of here and don’t rest until that bloody thing is destroyed.”

“Master—”

His voice ripped from his throat as he addressed the elf. “I don’t have time or patience for your insubordination.” Regulus marched to the potion-filled basin and stared at his rippling reflection in its surface. “You have to destroy it, Kreacher, you understand?”

Kreacher bowed deep, muttering his obedience under his breath. It was all the affirmation Regulus needed; he began to drink and closed his eyes against the onslaught of memories assaulting him.

_ Tucked in an alcove with Lily’s lips pressed against his. Her arms around his neck. His hands wrapped up in her hair. The way she whispered her love for him, the way she promised he would make the right choice when the time came. _

_ Yule holiday. A summons by The Dark Lord. Bringing honor to his family and kneeling before his new master. The Dark Mark searing into the skin on his forearm. Crying himself to sleep while the mark burned and ate away at his flesh. _

_ Meeting in secret on the snowy grounds of the castle, hidden as always. Holding hands out in the open when they knew no one would see. Making love in the greenhouses and fogging up the windows with their warm breath and the chilly air. _

_ Screaming at Lily that she’d never understand, that he’s expected to do more and be more. Daring to show her the stain upon his skin. Scaring her away so that he won’t ever hurt her. Lily’s voice, quiet and cold, “I’m nothing but a filthy mudblood to you, am I?” _

_ Regulus on his knees in the shadows of an alcove, forearm on fire and heart shattered. Whispering goodbye to the only person who ever knew him, the one person who might ever think he’d be better than the man he was becoming. _

_ A chance meeting in Diagon Alley. Regulus grabbing Lily by the elbow, begging her to listen, to let him prove himself, unable to let her go again. Desperate for just one more night with her. _

_ Kreacher snapping his fingers and dissolving every memory she ever had of him. _

The images swirled around him, dizzying and painful. His insides burned as if a fire was lit inside his gut and was roasting him from the inside. Regulus was thirsty, so thirsty, and tried to wet his lips with his tongue, but it was like sand from the desert—no moisture to be found. He turned on his heel and upon seeing the water at the island’s edge, ran to it and greedily began to cup it in his hands and lap at it like a dog.

Somewhere in the distance, Kreacher’s voice called out to him desperately. “Master Regulus!”

But, Regulus didn’t care. The only thing he needed, the only thing that mattered, was putting out the fire in his insides with the cool, refreshing water in his hands.

“Master Regulus, we must go!”

Regulus was about to turn, had heard the panic in the old elf’s voice, but a greying, rotting hand broke the surface of the water and wrapped like a vice around his wrist. It yanked hard, but he struggled against it. Another hand wrapped around his forearm. And then another, and another, until he jerked and twisted under the grip of a dozen hands. His screams echoed through the cavern as the decaying corpses dragged him into the water.

And then, after several moments, Regulus screamed no more.

* * *

Professor Dumbledore held his aging hands in his lap and surveyed Lily and James over his half-moon spectacles.“I’m afraid I do not come with good news.”

“Albus, please just rip off the plaster.” Lily sank into James’ warm hold, fortifying herself with a steady, deep breath.

“As you are aware, Hogwarts currently has an opening for a professor of Divination,” Dumbledore said, and though the tone was light Lily watched his twinkling eyes tighten ever so slightly. “It was not my intention to fill the position. True Seers are rare and the most famed of our time shy away from flaunting their gifts.”

“Albus, you’re not here for our gifts of Sight.” James chuckled and Lily swatted him. “The only witch who scored an O in Divination in the last decade is Lily, and even she believes it’s poppycock.”

“You are correct.” Dumbledore withdrew his wand and tapped it against a little silver trinket he’d procured from his robes. “I am not here to discuss the position, but rather a fortuitous interview with an applicant.”

A smoky figure rose from the trinket; her bug-like eyes staring blankly ahead.

“Sybil Trelawney has made a prophecy, one that I believe concerns the child you bear.” Dumbledore prodded Sybil’s translucent body, and Lily held her breath.

It felt big—like it was going to turn the tide of war. James held her tighter as the figure began to speak. Something prickled in the back of Lily’s mind as Sybil began to speak.

_ “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him...”  _


End file.
